


Wire Hilt

by yastaghr



Series: All The Hugs [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Needs A Hug, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-09 13:27:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6909256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yastaghr/pseuds/yastaghr





	Wire Hilt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SherlockedTrekkie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockedTrekkie/gifts).



Cold rain flooded down the window, the droplets so thick they could almost stand up by themselves. Thunder rolled, the sound booming throughout the dark mansion. A figure shot out of the chair by the fireplace, their fists balled and eyes flicking around the empty room before they collapsed on the floor in a heap of agony.

 

“Shit,” Rhodes dragged one of his legs forward, wincing as he twisted the brace back into alignment. His teeth bared in a grimace when the upper support on his right side dug into his lowest rib. A hiss of air pushed its way out from between his teeth. 

 

“Need a hand?” His eyes shot up, his hand going quickly to his hip where- “It’s okay, dude, chill. I’m not gonna hurt cha.”

 

“Like hell you’re not.”

 

The figure, outlined in the light of the fireplace, shifted slowly around so their face was lit, each step slow enough not to startle. Gradually, he could make out more features. Before him was… some kind of kid? Short, anyway, with chubby cheeks and scruffy hair that could be black or brown or dark red. He looked them up and down, searching their stained white t-shirt and ragged jeans for the bulge weapons, not that that meant much in this business…

 

“Are you seriously invading the Avenger’s Mansion barefoot?”

 

The kid shrugged, “Can one person really invade something? ‘Sides, s’not like I’m going to be here long.”

 

Rhodey inched back towards the fireplace, his hands groping for a weapon, any kind of weapon… where was a damned poker when you needed one? He stole a glance behind him… the rack was empty? From over near the couch came a soft plop. His head whipped round. The sight before him almost made him want to laugh… probably the shock, “Really? You’re just going to fall over on the couch? Really?”

 

The kid rolled over, hand dragging a pillow underneath their head, “It’s a comfortable couch. Sides, you weren’t using it… less you wanted that hand up. I bet the stone’s getting pretty uncomfortable on your spine over there.”

 

He winced as a spike of pain shot through him, “Look, kid, I don’t know who you think you are, but this isn’t how this sort of thing usually goes. You see, usually, you attack the people in the home you’re invading.”

 

The kid tilted their head, one eye cracking open. He shuddered. Looking into that eye was like staring into one of Tony’s Ion beams. The kid… winked at him? “Whoever said I was invading? Certainly not me. I’m just here for the couch, and, y’know, a chat, once you’re done being all spikey. I can wait,” The eye closed, and one thin arm draped itself over the kid’s eyes.

 

For several moments, he just stared at them. Were they really just going to… lay there?

 

…

 

They were, weren’t they?

 

…

 

Well, this was awkward. Slowly, eyes never leaving the figure on the couch, Rhodey pulled his legs up under him, sweat beading out at the pain. Finally, he got them under him. He paused for breath, eyes closing in relief.

 

“Y’know, I’d be totally willing to get up and help you. Just saying.”

 

He froze. His eyes snapped open. The kid… still hadn’t moved. His brain… wasn’t processing this very well. Why were they just… lying there? Why were they even here? ...to ‘chat’? Right, some clearly enhanced or non-human entity broke into the Avengers Mansion just for ‘a chat’. Which reminded him, why hadn’t any of the alarms gone off? His hand slipped into his pocket, pulling out his phone.

 

...what the fuck? His screen wasn’t responding, not to his fingers, not to the buttons… nothing. 

 

“Yeah, sorry about that, but I really don’t want to get shot at, so I just pulled us out of time for a minute or two… pun intended.”

 

He stared at them, “I don’t even know how to deal with this right now.”

 

The arm lifted up, and dust motes floating in the air above their eyes began to glow, “Talking is good. Communication is the purpose of language, after all, and it would be a bit of a shame if we never used it.”

 

He set his phone next to him, a faint click of plastic on marble echoing throughout the room, “Sure…”

 

The figure sighed, “Look, I’m not leaving until you talk to me. Time isn’t moving on until you talk to me. You aren’t getting answers to the numerous questions bubbling in your mind until you talk to me… so talk.”

 

“Why the hell should I talk to you? You just waltz in here, bypassing layers of security the Pentagon would be hard-pressed to crack, do… something to my phone, steal the pokers-”

 

The hand pointed up, one finger raised towards the ceiling, “Point One: I did not steal the pokers, they are on top of the mantle. I fully intend to put them back later, I merely prefer not to have you try to bash my brains in.” 

 

Rhodes grabbed the edge of a protruding brick, pulling himself, silently, to his feet.

 

A second finger joined the first, swaying to some unheard beat “Point two: I just explained the phone. Just now. At least listen to the mysterious intruder monologuing on your couch.”

 

“That was not monologuing,” He carefully shifted his weight, the brace adjusting the position of his feet millimeter by millimeter.

 

The swaying paused, “True. The principle remains the same, regardless,” A third finger joined the first two, “Point Three: I did not waltz. I may have skipped, but I most certainly did not waltz. Waltzing is a much more dignified affair… one might waltz into the UN, or the Forbidden City, but the Avengers Mansion is more of a… reel, I suppose. Much more exciting… better security, certainly.”

 

Finally stable, Rhodes released his grip on the brick and brought that hand up to the mantle, fingers searching around until they encountered the wire grip of a poker. Huh. And he thought they were lying. 

 

“Point Four:” 

 

Rhodes lunged at the couch, where the recumbent figure… was… gone? The tip of the poker tore through the fabric of the couch. 

 

From close behind him, the voice continued, “Why should you talk to me?” 

 

He swung around, ignoring the screams from his back. Nothing. 

 

“Because the only other option,” The poker shattered in his grip. He felt himself begin to panic, “Is a hug.”

 

Small arms wrapped around his waist. He jerked back, but the child didn’t waiver, only wrapping tighter. The back of his knee rammed into the edge of the couch, and a wave of pain travelled up his spine. He went rigid, every muscle locking under the sensation. The world went dark.

 

The child’s arms released, gentle hands pushing him back onto the couch. A small voice apologized, their small form hopping up beside him. A piece of fluff landed on his nose, quickly scooped away by tiny fingers. Rhodes noticed none of this, the pain pushing all else from his mind. Minutes dragged past. The child’s feet swung, back and forth, back and forth. They began to hum.

 

Slowly, Rhodey’s senses began to operate again. He felt the heat from the fire, the fabric of the couch underneath him. He heard a song, something simple and quiet, utterly alien and yet completely familiar. The pain ebbed… he breathed in.

 

“You okay now dude?”

 

...wait, what? They… hadn’t attacked him? They’d just… waited there?

 

“I told you, I’m not leaving until you talk to me. At least a little… although actually accepting a sympathy hug might do the trick, too… sorry about that.”

 

He… didn’t know how to process this. They were… just… what? What the hell did they even want? He opened his eyes and looked over at them. The figure’s head was tilted up towards the ceiling, hands braced beside small legs.

 

“... I guess you’re a little bit… wound up, aren’t you? Getting shot by someone you… trust? Rely on? Can at least hold a conversation with? ...well, paranoia is… a reasonable reaction. Kinda shoulda figured on it, right? Well, paranoia and panic. Good things… good tools… but kinda dangerous when taken in extremes. They can scare people away, for one thing… but is it really better to make yourself stand alone than let them see?”

 

Rhodes felt… odd. Like someone had looked into him,  _ into _ him, and seen… him. His emotions, his fears…

 

“And you worry about that, more than the pain, right? That you will be a burden, something to be coddled and cared for, when you used to stand strong among the greatest heroes in the world. You’re afraid if you lean on them… if you let them see how much you shy away from the storms, how much you’ve buried under that spikey ball of sass… if they see how broken you are on the inside, they’ll realise you’re just a burden, just some normal person they need to protect like everyone else, and they’ll leave you behind.”

 

His deepest insecurities. “Now hold up-”

 

“I wasn’t done talking yet, so drop the defense,” Something in that voice would not be denied, “Now, where was I? Oh, yeah. You’re worried, just because you’re afraid, just because you’re in pain, they will abandon you. That’s pretty hilarious, dude. You realize most of them are just as bad, if not worse off, than you?”

 

Silence filled the room.

 

“Really? I mean, it’s kinda obvious. At least half of you had seen actual combat before all this… no matter what century it was in. You  _ have _ to have heard of PTSD. And then you consider everything you’ve gone through lately? New York, Sokovia, Lagos, Berlin… do you honestly think battles ‘normal’ people shouldn’t go anywhere near are any less scarring than military combat?”

 

Rhodes shut his eyes, conversations flickering over his inner eye like frames in a movie.

 

“Apart from the obvious bundles of psychosis and nerves that are Stark and Barnes, Wanda lost her twin in a battle that destroyed the country she grew up in, Barton had someone invade his mind, Romanoff put her entire past out onto the internet for the world to read… need I go on?”

 

He gulped, shaking slightly. A small hand ruffled through his hair.

 

“Normal is defined as the average of a majority. Considering the company you keep… you kinda are their kind of normal, aren’t cha?”

 

The couch-springs twanged as the child stood up. He opened his eyes to see two glowing orbs staring back down at him… kindly?

 

“There is no better company in the world for you to keep… but try actually talking to people. They kinda need it just as much as you do… so give it a try? Thanks.”

 

The child turned, half skipping over to the still-wet window. They paused.

 

“Oh, and dude?” 

 

He gulped. What now?

 

A pair of arms circled his own left arm, wrapping tight. Further down, he felt a wire grip pressed into his palm.

  
“If you really are that worried about this, maybe keeping a weapon closer to hand would be a good start.”


End file.
